


Sweat, Baby, Sweat

by mortaltemples



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (she only half succeeds), Canon Compliant, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, greed being a cocky shit, greed is into getting beat up by hot chicks with automail, interplay of sex and violence, lan fan is trying to stop herself from kicking him in the teeth, pre-promised day, sparring as sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:39:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortaltemples/pseuds/mortaltemples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted more of that ferocity to be directed at him, all strength and muscle and fire, panting from exertion, her eyes working out all the different ways she knows to kill him or fuck him. Something in him rumbled at that. <i>Well, hello, Ling, nice to see you’re paying attention.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat, Baby, Sweat

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. The title comes from The Bad Touch by The Bloodhound Gang. Because if your Greed playlist isn't as ridiculous as he is then there's no point.
> 
> Note: this fic is...I'm sorry. It's not great, but it was fun to write. And you just know Greed would get off on Lan Fan beating him up.

There’s five hours to go.

 

Five hours to move from the Kanama slum to Central command. That gives them a while. Greed contemplates turning tail and running, getting the hell out of dodge for a while and then swoop in to gather up the pieces of what remains once the smoke has cleared. A sharp press in his mind quells that notion pretty quickly.

 

Damn brat. Not even his country and he insists on sticking around. Greed’s not a fool, and he’s not heartless - he understands the brat’s desire to protect the friends he’s made here, hell, he’d admire it if it weren’t for the fact that it might just get them both killed.

 

He’s leaning against a tree, just outside of camp when he feels it. A presence above. He’s used to being watched but not like this. His possessions were never so...zealous about it. He heads further into the trees, away from the camp sat monitoring that big pile of earth Fullmetal’s old man made to house Pride and the brother for the day.  It’s useless, anyway. The Promised Day will come, and there is no doubt Pride’s going to be there to see it.

 

Greed can feel her following him - a pinprick in the back of his mind, it would be comforting if he didn’t know full well that she would gladly kill him if it didn’t mean damaging the body of the brat. Ling pushed back at that, just slightly, just enough to let him know that _he should not, under any circumstances, underestimate the girl_. As if he could - after the stunt she pulled with Gluttony, he’s just about ready to bring her into the fold as one of his possessions. A different variety to the kid and the chimeras, obviously. Ling’s consciousness spiked against him - touchy subject, clearly. Greed smirked and reminded Ling of the image he sent to the Prince when she first appeared out of fucking _nowhere_ (how did she even _do_ that?), Lan Fan, against a tree trunk, legs around his waist, the blade on her automail sharp against his hair, threatening to cut it as her arms wound around his neck...yes. The brat certainly didn’t protest at that one.

 

Once he (they? The sense of the girl was always there, but there was Ling to think of too, that presence, constantly in the back of his mind) were in the quiet, Greed wrung his hands. Stretched. He could feel the nerves bubbling inside of him like the Cretan wine his old body was so fond of.

 

_Fuck or fight, huh?_

 

“Hey. Hot chick with the metal arm. Get down here.” He called. Ling positively blazed at that.

 

 _Lan Fan_ , his consciousness practically screamed at him, _her name is Lan Fan._

 

There was no response. Then, suddenly, she was in front of him. He could barely see the outline of the white of her mask, and she made no noise, yet he knew she was there. The Prince clearly had his uses.

 

“You wanna fight?” He asked. She tilted her head to one side. “Come on, I need to blow off some steam and I doubt my host would appreciate me going for the other thing.” She cocked her head even further at that, and Greed remembered that his almost preternatural sense of her presence and actions did not extend to her being able to read his mind. He sighed.

 

“Look, one way or another, by tomorrow night, this’ll be over. And if I can’t have any...fun, and your Prince would not be impressed with me if I suggested it, then I wanna make an exception to my rules and fight with a hot chick who just killed my brother a crazy amount of times.”

 

“I would hurt you.” She replied. A woman of few words. Greed grinned.

 

“Nah, I put up my shield and we’re good to go - what do you say?”

 

“I would hurt you.” She repeated. Totally deadpan. _Shit_. He shrugged.

 

“That’s why it’s a fight.” He said. He allowed the grapheme to cover the lower part of his arms and swiped at her.

 

Clock is ticking. She dodged it effortlessly.

 

She barely had to move to dodge his attacks. It was frustrating. He wanted her to hit back. He wanted skin against skin, clawing at each other...Not subtle, but they’re out of time as it is, subtlety can be for when this damn fear isn’t pressing down on all parts of his consciousness at all times.

 

“Hit back.” He spat out.

 

“I cannot arm myself against the Prince. That would be treason.” She said. Greed groaned in frustration.

 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not him, then.” He said and went for her mask. She leaned back and moved out of the way. So damned calm. Ling flared up at that - _it’s control. Control, not calm. And she deserves your respect for it. She’s protecting you, after all._

 

“I tell you what, sometimes I regret letting this kid maintain his consciousness. He was fun at first but now...sometimes I just want a break from his whining.” He said and took a swing at her, she parried that one with her automail arm, not content with simply moving out the way. The blade strayed dangerously close to his neck.

 

He chuckled breathlessly. Much better. He wanted more of that ferocity to be directed at him, all strength and muscle and fire, panting from exertion, her eyes working out all the different ways she knows to kill him or fuck him. Something in him rumbled at that. _Well, hello, Ling, nice to see you’re paying attention._

 

She refused to attack when the claws of his shield scraped her mask, waiting to kick him, just once, in his solar plexus, but hell if it wasn’t hard. It caught him off guard, the way she moved had a grace he didn’t think she possessed.

 

He moaned and clutched at his stomach.

 

“Young Lord?” She asked hopefully. Greed shook his head.

 

“Nah, I’ll tell you what though, the brat’s a fool if -” She hit him again. This was more like it. He didn’t want to have to prompt her. So he punched back.

 

A kick to his left flank, a leg sweeping hers from underneath her, a fist aimed at his jaw and caught by his right hand and then he barely had time to notice what was happening. Until he felt her right hand tug at his hair and a jolt of pleasure went through him - the pain of it only registering at some far away part of his mind that really didn’t matter so long as...

 

 _Ah, there’s the pain_ , he thought as his back hit the ground. She pinned him on either side with sharp knees and kept the blade of her automail ready and waiting at his throat.

 

“Satisfied?” She asked. He supposed it was meant to be menacing, but he chose to interpret it as a come on.

 

“Not even close, sweetheart. Round two?” He flicked off her mask and she scowled. She fucking _scowled_. He had never been so turned on.

 

The steel pressed harder against him. _Draw blood_ , he thought. _Come on, take it_. “The Young Lord’s body is not for games.” He smirked. She really made it too easy.

 

“You so sure about that?” He said. “Come on, look at us. You have me, the Young Lord, whoever, pinned beneath you, in the dark, alone.”

 

“You’re foul.”

 

“And ready and waiting for you to decide what the hell you want. If you’re worried about the Prince, don’t be. I can promise you he’ll enjoy it.” Ling strained against the front of his mind, but Greed drew something out of his consciousness. The thought of Lan Fan moving slightly lower on him, taking him, her hands against his chest and her moans spilling into his mouth as her spine arched and her hips bucked...another image, just as potent, her moving up his body, his tongue flicking against her clit and her hands buried in his hair...if he could have, he’d slap the Prince on his back in pride. No, he would _definitely_ enjoy whatever the bodyguard wanted.

 

“Come on, we’re on a time limit here. Four hours til showtime. What do you want to do with it? Whatever you want.” She paused. For a second he thought she might climb off him, ready for round two. The more optimistic part of him thought she might take up his offer for sex.

 

“I want you gone.” She hissed. Damn. Worth a shot. He lay there motionless - this was rather disappointing. “Well? You said whatever I wanted.”

 

He ran a hand up her calf. “And that’s all you want?” He asked as his hand creeped higher. She tensed as his hand circled her knee. _Interesting_. She closed her eyes a moment and breathed. She flicked them open again.

 

“Yes. That is all.” She said and climbed off him. He groaned both at the sudden loss of weight and in sheer frustration.

 

He allowed his shield to drop and gingerly stood up, taking a moment to adjust his pants and save some shred of dignity. He could feel Ling bristle at that - _there wouldn’t be any need if you didn’t torment her_ , the Prince’s voice was like an echo in his mind. _Yeah, yeah, so we’ve got to deal with an awkwardly timed hard-on, what else is new?_ The perks of being in a teenager’s body, so Greed has discovered, include getting him to shut up with the slightest allusion to embarrassment. Lan Fan silently tied her mask around her head again, leaving him unable to see her expressions, _her scowl_ , again.

 

“You’re no fun.” He pouted, but Lan Fan was through with him. Without another word she was back in the trees. “We’ll go again, you know.” He called. “Tomorrow. Same time, same place.”

  
Yes. If anything could get him through the next few hours it’s this - the prospect of toned muscle, narrowed dark eyes and telling her again and again to take what she wants. Maybe someday she’ll listen.


End file.
